Incurable Scars
by CookieRansacked
Summary: He always wondered, had those been dreams, or nightmares? It had the properties of both, pain and fear, pleasure and excitement. It was hard to tell… Marik was left to his own memories and devices that lurked in the caverns of his mind. But when trickles of thought are so vivid and vast, how could someone cope with the overpowering weight of guilt on their shoulders? Thiefshipping
1. Chapter 1

**Incurable Scars**

**Thiefshipping**

Whenever Marik drifted through his consciousness, toes skimming the boundary separating reality from a dream world, his past haunted him making his skin crawl. He would always start by lying there, opening his eyes only to see Bakura in an eerie, wickedly white mist, his face staring him down with such hatred and loathing, reaching for his neck, his hands clutching his throat increasing the amount of pressure gradually. Having words Marik had written himself, even if Marik felt it was too unpleasant, too shameful for him to entertain he couldn't reject it. Imprinting the words on his own mind being read aloud but with Bakura's harsh yet so angelic voice repeat constantly; _You left me, Marik. You left me to wither in the shadow realm. You left me to rot!_

Marik always woke in a sweating, trembling ball of sheets and flesh. Only to try to fall back to sleep once more with the little comfort he gained from his surroundings and the remains of the tears he had harshly tried to rub away clinging to his eyelashes.

He had left Bakura in the Shadow Realm. He had always felt guilty of that, but having something confirm that it was his fault, even if it was his own twisted contemplation was like a blow to the stomach. But that snake kept slithering into his mind, taunting him with his fangs and those beautiful eyes. In the end, his mind gave up, even when the snake didn't. He revelled in the creature's dangerous beauty as it drifted into Marik's mind as he slept. He always wondered, had those been dreams, or nightmares? It had the properties of both, pain and fear, pleasure and excitement. It was hard to tell. All Marik knew was that this particular snake would haunt him for many nights to come. He wanted him back, for them to be how they were before all of this mess. Even his voice to reach back through the past just to tell him, he was sorry.

But he was gone. Gone forever. Marik had always tried to deny that he could be until it finally sank in, Marik just wanted to scream. He wanted to hurt himself, to get rid of this feeling, like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He thought he managed to move on just a little bit, clearly not. Even though Bakura was a pain whenever he was around, his arrogant and mocking nature trying to crawl under Marik's skin, although Marik never realised or even imagined that the pain would be so much stronger when Bakura wasn't there, a vacant hole in his life that no one else could possibly fill, leaving Marik with the never ending agony binding him. Even if they never claimed they had that sort of relationship but he felt it there even if he didn't want to admit it. He wanted to freak out. He hated it. He hated this lack of control.

He had been trying to escape it, the memories that laced through his mind, wrapping tightly around his sanity. Threatening to burst it anytime soon from the heightening pressure, causing the last bit of his saneness left to seep away. He visited different places, travelling like many people his age do, leaving his sister and step brother for a while, claiming it was just to clear his thoughts and get away for a bit. The tomb keeper had fulfilled his duty and the old Pharaoh had finally fulfilled his sacred mission also, Marik had said goodbye to Odion and Ishizu, he wanted to live in the light, yes all three of them moved back to Egypt to start fresh, but it meant for him that he wanted to see the world. Experience every possible form of freedom he should receive and when he did that was what drove him, only then would he come back to his siblings. He slept under different skies, even travelled over many different seas in a vain hope the dreams would finally cease. He never ended up staying in one place any longer than a week. His thoughts would build up too much otherwise if he wasn't doing anything productive with himself. He stayed at whatever accommodation he could find, even if it was a small, shaky motel in the dirtier, poorer district of a buzzing exotic town.

Marik at this point manage to get himself to the western part of Europe. It was near the sea and the sun blazed throughout the day, magnificent and proud in the blue skies despite it being December where most other countries would be in the mists of cold and harsh weather. The residents there seemed as lively as the rays shining upon them. Marik liked this part of his travels; the cheerful zest of the daylight almost distracted him enough to let a smile tug on his lips once and a while even if it was a little forced. After hours of exotic food, colours and people, the end of the day started to dawn on him. It was getting ridiculously late even for the lively inhabitants here, the town was becoming more silent and lifeless as the sun lowered towards the horizon, the flaming tongues of the giant fire ball tickling the edge darkening the landscape and atmosphere. He wandered for some time until he reached the nearest motel he saw, hastily booking a room for himself.

The motel wasn't even close to 'classy' or generally a nice place to stay. The floors creaked with every step you took, the wallpaper was dull and dirty from Ra knows what and nearly every piece of furniture looked like it would explode and turn to dust with the slightest bit of contact. _Might as well take a look around town? _His thoughts mumbled, and proceeded to do so. Nothing strikingly amazing caught his eye; boredom hit him like a bag of bricks. So after pointless wandering he decided to the check out the small bar next door to his lodgings.

The harsh smell of cigarette smoke and booze instantly filled his nostrils as he strolled through the bar's doors. His eyes almost watering from the overpowering smell that lingered. The dim light also taking toll on his eyesight, he stumbled through the room, perching himself on the nearest stool. Marik's eyes shifted around the room, the dull atmosphere seemed very uncomfortable to him. It was weird, his gaze landed on the small candle in front of him. Its flame flickered and licked at the air. It seemed very taunting**.** Increasing Marik's uneasiness even more.

"What will be it?" A rough, deep sounding voice interrupted him, Marik jolted in his seat, shaken by the sudden voice. His purple eyes landed upon the bartender. He was a bulky man; his head completely hairless and curvy tattoos were drawn all down his face and extended to his massive arm, some of it hidden behind the sweaty top the man was wearing. His face was twisted in type of annoyed sneer.

Marik ordered a pretty cheap and simple drink**,** after the bartender gave it to him, he went off to the other end of the bar leaving Marik alone with his thoughts. He took a swig of the drink in hand; the unpleasant taste flowed down his throat leaving a bitter aftertaste burning the back of his throat behind. Marik placed the drink down deciding it was best not to drink any more of the vile stuff and turned his attention back to the small flame. The flame continued to flicker dangerously at him. He felt his hand begin to shake, and he started feeling sharp twinges through his head. He didn't like this feeling; the area around him was too enclosed, as if the walls were closing in on him. He hated this feeling it seemed too vivid, too _familiar. _His vision started to blur, colours and objects began to merge together as his head pounded.

_"It is your destiny to become a tomb keeper!" _

_My destiny… _His thoughts echoed his father's words. Old memories developed hastily, crashing into an atrocious pandemonium against all angles of his skull. _A destiny I never even wanted! _His mind screamed. All he wanted was freedom, to walk on the surface again, feel the sun's rays warm his toffee coloured skin, and feel the wind rush through his sandy hair one more time. Why couldn't he have that? Why did he have to be denied of that simple desire? Why did he have to spend the rest of his days locked in the darkness? He didn't want to be stuck here for the rest of his miserable life; with all of his chances for freedom vanishing.

He didn't know, he just didn't…

A long, red hot dagger was raised, screams being ripped from his throat until it throbbed from the strain his cries has caused, blood pooling on the floor, the rough texture of the stone slab beneath his heaving chest, the pain the Millennium Rod was inflicting as the blade slashed across his back forming the dark bloody trails of the soon to be scars, Marik's vision disappearing, his mind slipping to unconsciousness, his whole world fading to black as he passed out on the table. Each swerving pattern blistered the boy's skin as the burning hot metal carved into his back with every stroke. The angry, horribly beautiful cuts glistened menacingly in the fire of the chamber.

Marik was clutching his head, eyes clenched shut, twitching from the sharp pains his head was making. One hand pressed against the bar's marble surface, using it to hold himself up. As if it were the only thing keeping him there.

He then saw Bakura, his eyes piecing into his own. The hatred there was terrifying, scalding Marik's own irises just from the radiated glare.

_"You left me to rot Marik!" _He screamed at him. His face twisting with more rage with each passing second. _"Rotting in the shadow realm, I waited for you Marik. For you to come back to me but you never did. I had to eventually find my own way out. Since you never bothered to come back for me or even take me with you when you were released!" _The pain in his head increased. _What? Now he's trying to haunt me when I'm awake?!_ His thoughts screeched at him as memories he had gotten rid of a while back pooled in his mind.

"Hey, mate. You alright?" Marik's eyes snapped open, the room started to swift back to normal, no longer giant smudges of dingy colours. His breathing began to return to its normal pace, his headache now only a dull throbbing. Eyes now fully focussed, he looked up at the bartender only to find him cocking an eyebrow.

"Y-yeah I'm fine…" Marik gave a nervous chuckle, which to his dismay only cause the eyebrow to rise a little higher on the rough looking man's face. Marik's lips straightened; _now this is awkward_ he thought. "I- I have to go now." Marik excused himself, practically leaping from the bar stool and in moments was rushing out of the worn out doors.

He hastened away from the bar, not paying any attention to the pandemonium that echoed and swirled around him. Racketing in his eardrums. Marik was abruptly stopped. From tripping against his motorcycle. He lay slumped over it blinking away any make belief sounds his ear drummed into his brain. Sitting himself up, he gazed at the vehicle. The finely sworn leather that clad the seat, the glossy cherry red paint job decorating it, the long mazes of metal baring its machine teeth at any who is near. It was truly a work of beauty. A silent mute, only to be woken by the turn of a handle, giving a fearsome roar that boomed its life like machinery. A companion like no other.

Marik let his eyes close for a brief moment, taking in a salty breath. How he wished he could have told the young, naïve soul that lived in that dark and haunting tomb that he does get a treasure he wanted so dearly, how he would finally be free.

Fluently, the ex-tomb keeper went into the motorcycle's compartment and shoved his helmet on, gripped the clutch and revved the engine, the motion jerked him over the front slightly taking him by surprise and slowing down his reaction time, he regained his composure until the ground beneath him went by in silver flashes and his hair was being whipped back by the wind's force. The anger that was once there dissolved, and new happier feelings bubbled to the surface. The crooks of his mouth twitched, until he was full on grinning, like a psychotic person with many devious plans hidden under his hood. Marik speeded down the deserted alleyways, the wind rushing past his ears, blocking out certain sounds around him. Shapes of shadowed spiny trees and buildings zipped past him as he increased speed, his hair dancing excitedly against the side of his head to the wild rhythm of the breeze. It was an exhilarating feeling.

Dark rain clouds started to form in the sky, threatening to start plummeting waves of rain at any moment. He slowed down and halted at another port, he must have been in the older part of town, as ancient looking structures materialised around him, and some seemed to be affected by harsh erosion over the years. The buildings were close packed together making long and narrow alleyways all across the port line.

Marik slowly slid off his motorcycle, he gazed open the sea once more; he closed his eyes, letting the salty air fill his nostrils. Suddenly a wet drop of something fell on his left cheek. His eyes snapped open, and he altered his gaze to the sky where a giant murky cloud was lurking letting raindrops dive to the earth below. A loud thunder cackled, erupting the heavens, with a long dash of blinding white lightning darting across the sky.

"I didn't think this through…"He muttered to himself bitterly as the small droops of rain began to lightly fall around him.

Sighing heavily**,** Marik lagged his motorcycle under a canopy of a dusty tattered market stool and took cover. His golden hair now dripping along with his clothing. He crossed his arms together, shivering as icy gusts of wind trembled past him. He thought this was meant to be a hot country?! He let his eyes wonder the small village town, a bored expression was stuck firmly on his face. Unexpectedly someone dashed past Marik's vision as if they were in a rush; Marik jumped at the sudden movement, blinking repeatedly at the spot where the person had last been. Doubting that they were ever there.

"Must have just been a trick of light." He thought a loud, reassuring himself. However that thought vaporised instantly as he saw them again, entering another cross section. Curiosity began to boil in Marik's veins, as he took a step out into the bucketing rain and headed towards the alleyway the person had been. He stopped in his tracks and searched around the buildings. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Just the usual darkness, small gusts of wind, sounds of the waves colliding against the coast, and the old cracked walls. The rain glittered across his sun kissed skin, leaving behind trials of water along the surface. Small circler beads dripped from the ends of his now soaking hair. Marik rubbed his temples. _It must have just been my imagination. _With this thought in mind He slowly began to turn on his heel, when the figure skipped past his vision again once more**,** weaving in and out of the alleyways ahead.

Marik rushed forward and began to follow the person. Who the hell would be out at this time of night especially in this weather? _Apart from the idiot known as Marik. _He added to himself harshly. Interest made the sensitive hairs on Marik's neck stand on end. He whirled around the corner. The figure was playfully alluring as he leaned on the mouth of another alley. That was before he turned around elegantly and slid out of sight. Who the hell is this guy? Before the figure slipped away Marik caught sight of the stranger's eyes, they were a stunning burgundy like crisp apples you'd find in the autumn. Marik followed the figure, catching up with him for a second before the stranger stepped further into the old town, allowing the darkness of the alley to engulf him, the maroon colour of his eyes lingering in the shadows before they vanished as well.

Marik had never witnessed anything like this, someone who could move so speedily and vanish just with a few shadows at hand. The man slid past every junction of the alleyways. Here. Then there. It almost terrified Marik how weird this was. How the stranger almost seemed inhuman. Suddenly a sound erupted in the alleyway, bouncing off the cracked walls around him; it was a weird, unnatural sound.

Laughter...

It was more of a cackle. A deep chuckle that sent chills to his bone. His hair stood. His eyes widened. And he began to sweat, despite the coldness of the weather. Rustling came. But he knew well that there were no trees nearby. Footsteps. Fast moving ones, echoes making it sound as if they were skidding in every direction.

The figure stepped out into the rainy darkness with him. He could see the distant man with long white hair flowing down his back like milk poured from a glass. He had seemed to have stopped running away from him now. Marik heard the soft treading of the strangers feet, Marik glanced at the new comer and every just stopped. His amethyst eyes enlarged as the meet the familiar sangria ones.

The figure he had been following was standing in front of him, eyes narrowed, arms crossed, and stance ever so confident. The moonlight seemed to cast the slightest of exposed pale skin in an ethereal glow. The wind came again fighting against the rain, ruffling his clothes and hair ever so slightly. Marik was stunned. He had never seen anyone look as captivating as the russet brown eyed man in front of him. He was momentarily lost, his own shock restraining him. Nothing had ever looked so sharp, so vibrant, so agonizingly clear before. Each drop of rain was now pouring vigorously, a translucent curtain like marvel, plummeting quickly before him. Every crack in the brick work around them was pronounced; every trail of sparkling rain water glistened, trickling down each man's skin. Each flickering light from the city street and the flashing lightning beyond the alley was as magnificent as a fireworks display.

…Bakura?


	2. Chapter 2

Bakura was staring at him expressionlessly. He stood there, so mysterious and seemingly calm. His white hair was matted slightly from the merciless rain and his button-down blue shirt was thrown open to reveal the striped shirt beneath and his eyes. The man could not help but stare. It was a beautiful shade of brownie red, like freshly spilled blood which was drying under high temperatures. In the split second Marik had to stare at his former partner, Bakura cocked his head and smirked slightly, as water slid down his face and slipped off his angular features. It made sense now, his fast movements, using the shadows to his advantage, he was the skilled thief. He had learnt the tricks and skills needed. Then, the alleyway went dark again as the flash of lightning was swallowed up by the night.

Marik's thoughts began to go haywire as a buzzing started to sound in his ears. His body started to shake vigorously. If were because of the shock or the cold he couldn't have told you. Marik clutched onto to his head. This changed Bakura's expression; he looked slightly startled yet concerned by Marik reaction. Bakura titled his head slightly, raising one of his eyebrows.

Bakura being back seemed to only echo one thing to Marik. That he wanted to see his blood trickle down his own pale hands. Marik knew it all too well and was now feeling panicked. His quick-beating heart was lodged in his throat, as he stepped backwards through the dark alleyway. His feet pounded the muddy alley floor, splashing rainwater in all directions. The rain fell ceaselessly in thick sheets, accentuated by brief flashes of lightning, which only revealed Marik's anxious face. It still baffled him how Bakura could even be there now but he had betrayed Bakura, left him for dust while he pranced around helping the pharaoh. Waiting for him… no wonder he would want revenge for that. It made Marik feel sick that he left the one he cared about most so easily. He clamped his eyes shut and began to turn ready to launch himself in the opposite direction.

"Marik!"

He froze. The voice was rich, deep, and highly sensual, sending shivers down his spine with each syllable. He could feel the sound. And when he turned he head towards it, Bakura was there, a mere metre away, arms casually by the side and body poised in a very confident stance that was so alluring to him. His fear, which had reached horrifying levels, was immediately cooled for the moment he saw the male beauty watching him intently with those captivating eyes.

However the fear became lodge in his throat as quickly as it came when Bakura was about to walk closer. His mind seemed to be on overdrive. He started running once more. Only looking straight ahead, to the place he was at the start of all this oddness. Marik came breathlessly to the worn-out port and looked frantically around for his motorcycle. In his haste and panic, he overlooked it several times. As soon as he saw it, he rushed toward it, pulling the helmet over his head and went immediately for the ignition. As soon as he twisted the handles, he drove forward. Driving as fast as it could possible to go.

He got to his motel room, slamming the door behind him, cradling himself against the wall. _Did I really just see him? Bakura, back?! _His mind felt like a hornets' nest after getting hit by some overly cocky child. Marik winced as the swollen, ebony clouds sent another bolt of lightning plummeting to Earth, illuminating the sky and temporarily blinding him. This fantastic display was followed by a deep, menacing rumble of thunder, like the belly of a hungry beast. His whole form trembled under the erupting sounds; he clutched his head he had to end this somehow, however. What could he do? Anything he did would hurt. Nothing he did would end this.

He leaned to one side against the wall with his shoulders slumped, staring at nothing. His eyes burned with tears that wouldn't fall. Every beat of his heart seemed to take more effort than it was worth, but somehow, it just kept beating. He was long past pain and well into numb. If only he could stay there, and never feel anything at all, ever again.

He wanted Bakura back so badly. To be by his side once more. Anything. But he knew it wouldn't happen. He wasn't naive enough to think that his Bakura would ever come back for him, the one he had known. Only the one who wanted his blood spilled. He felt as if his whole life was nothing but an empty carcass, filled with nothing. The familiar nothingness was as comforting as it was horrifying. And in this nothingness, Marik cried properly for the first time in years.

Marik fell asleep against the wall, completely tied out from everything that was going on but was rudely interrupted by buzzing noises. He slowly opened his eyes, his eyelids heavy from lack of sleep and the tears he let fall. He lugged himself up, stretching himself out. He hazily looked over to the small alarm clock on the bedside table. 3:54 AM flashed in a dim green light. Marik's heart sank. "It must have just been a dream…" He whispered to himself, rubbing his arms even though the room hadn't lowered in temperature. Remembering the buzzing sounds, he scanned the room until noticing his phone vibrating against the room's desk, shaking across the wood. He snatched the thing rapidly flipping it open.

"H-hello?"

"Hey Marik, its Ishizu!" He heard his sister chirp down the phone.

"I'm here too Marik!" Odion yelled sounding more distant and quieter due to being a little further away from the phone. The corners of Marik's lips lifted a little into a small beam.

"Hey guys! How are you?" He asked more cheerfully, his mood lifting from the simple sound of their voices alone.

"We're good Marik. How have you been doing? I hope we didn't wake you…" Ishizu responded.

"No you didn't wake me at all, and yeah I've been okay." Well that was half true, at least he wasn't dead yet. He however felt slightly bad for lying through his teeth to his siblings.

"That's great! Well we were just calling up to see how you were and to wish you a happy birthday brother!" He could almost feel her grin glowing from the other side of the phone.

"Birthday?" _It's my birthday? _He pondered to himself. He skimmed around his motel room until a shaggy calendar caught his eye. How a calendar could end up being as warned down as the room he didn't know. He looked at the dates; rough crosses filled the blank spaces that represented the days that had already passed. December 23rd still awaited a cross. Yes, it was his birthday, he didn't even realise it was close by. _How old am I now? Nineteen? Wow… _

"Don't tell me you forgot your own birthday Marik." He received from Odion from their home in Egypt. Clearly he had over taken the line as Marik could unmistakably hear Ishizu's struggling and protest.

"I may have done, brother. Haha thank you guys!" Marik chirped cheerfully.

"You're welcome dear brother. So we were wondering when you'll be coming home, not trying to dampen your fun or anything, just miss you."

"Erm, soon probably, miss you guys too." To be honest Marik hadn't planned when he would get back, not in the slightest, what should, _could_ he say? So he decided to give an indirect answer, he wasn't ready to return just yet though he did miss home and his relatives. "It's kind of late here now, so I think I'm going to catch some shut eye…"

"Okay we'll get in touch soon. Bye Marik!" Odion replied positively, it was a relief to know everything was okay on their end. And with that the phone call ended leaving a very bewildered Marik still staring down at his phone. He plopped it back down on the deck and collapsed on his bed, arms supporting the back of his head. He stared blankly at the ceiling until after a few minutes he started chuckling to himself.

"Nice one Marik, forgetting your own blasting birthday." He laughed to himself when suddenly there was knocking on his door. He sat up, his expression plastered with confusion. He turned to gaze at the clock. 4:06 AM. Who in the hell would be knocking at this time of night? He lifted himself up from the bed he gracefully made his way to the door.

Grabbing the handle gently he opened the door; the hinges creaked slightly under the tan hand's pull. He peeked around the wooden door, gazing around it cautiously, lavender eyes searching for the source of the knocking.

Bakura's figure stood in the frame of the door, his hair still dripping from each wild strand. His face was blank and those haunting eyes set on Marik. The renter of the room staggered back, he wasn't expecting him to be able to follow him all the way back to his room. Or him to exactly be there at all…

"Mind if I come in?" He asked, his voice was so crisp and had a slight shake from what Marik assumed was the cold bite of the weather. He was still too stunned to react however he barely had time to blink when Bakura uttered, "Great." And causally cruised passed him. He shook his head to rid himself of his daft state and closed the door, watching his white haired guest the whole while. "You don't mind if I rest my eyes for a bit do you?" Bakura queried letting his silhouette fall against the wall to the carpeted floor.

"No, I don't mind…" He whispered.

After half hour, Marik felt like thirty years had come tumbling by. Nevertheless Marik's eyes never left Bakura for a second, watching him intently completely captivated until he ended up sitting beside him. Beautiful. He looked like an angel asleep, probably because his lips weren't curving into that deadly smirk, and those demonic eyes couldn't open and twinkle in a lascivious haematic. No. There was no way he would disturb Bakura. Not when he looked so peaceful in blissful ignorance of the raging storm outside.

Sadly to Marik's dismay, his gawking at Bakura's solitude was interrupted by the silver haired boy's eyelids opening and simply to Marik staring absorbedly at him. He arched an eyebrow and smirked.

"Well hello there…" He chuckled at the startled look engraved on Marik's face, only to stagger in volume when Marik let a frown form and tearing his eyes away.

"Say," Marik slightly hissed, glancing at the figure lying beside him trying to control his body from shaking. "Why did I let you in my room?"

"What is this? Guess the riddles?" He answered in a low voice; it had the same old ring to it, a little hoarse and crunchy. It was easy to forget that Bakura was Egyptian sometimes. There were his clothes, simply whatever his old host Ryou had been wearing before he took control, he must have stuck with the same style, and his words, Japanese twisted to his use. But most of all, he was so much paler then many people. Not just in hair but in skin, ivory all over, glowing when the moon was visible in the sky. It might have been beautiful, but Bakura looked far more like a restless dead spirit, spreading his dark influences over the world.

"Just answer you moron," said Marik.

"Easy," The corner of the Bakura's mouth rose, "because I'm sexy?"

Marik's eyebrow twitched reacting with the silver haired boy's laugher. He let out a breath, "Just so you know, I'm not going to hand over the Millennium Rod just because of this, I don't even have the thing anymore," He stated with a sharp tone.

"No trouble," The young man shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "After so long I did not come to the Millennium Rod."

"What did you come for then?" Marik questioned, surprised, feeling a headache start to itch away his brain again.

"I came to ..." the young man paused, "see the most beautiful thing in the entire universe," he said as he winked, grinning broadly. Bakura's face glowed with each flash of lightening. His hair the tangled, spiky white mess as it had always been, the strands seeming to embrace each other in a chaotic untidiness, pale lips stretched over his sparkling white teeth, with his inhuman canines poking out, and eyes glistening deviously.

Marik choked on his own saliva and stared at Bakura closely, he tried to find traces of lie in his eyes. He was pretty sure he should have been dead by now. He found zilch. Zero. Nothing…

"You know, Marik. If you keep looking at me this closely for more than three seconds, I couldn't bear to not kiss you," Bakura said softly. This made the blonde haired man realise that his face was only an inch away from the other. He was close enough to feel the whitette's breath on his skin. Marik rushed back to its original position, lying next to him, he was silent staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. Rain pounded against the window, slamming on the glass as thunder trumpeted the peck of the storm. Another lightning bolt descended, nature's power condensed into a single streak of light through the sky. The wind howled from outside, ripping weaker leaves from their branches too soon, while the others clung for dear life. Despite the havoc beyond the glass, an awkward silence fills the air in the square room. The wallpaper was dull with the ornament a silent witness of the two teens.

Reacting to the playful attitude of the thief will just make him feel like a fool. And Marik will hate it. Although he was trying not to reveal anything, he knew that Bakura often had fun with others. And he just happened to be one of those people 'others' were in. He was still the mocking character that he had always known him as. Men and women, all could not resist the alluring charm of the thief.

Milk-white skin looked pale in the strikes of lightning, with coarse-textured silver hair framing his handsome face. Front line of a firm with great cheekbones, a thin pale lips and arched shape curve like always, vague, dragging everyone around him in a sinful charm.

Expressions on his face, his tone, how he spoke each word, to every gesture of his body, seemed to indicate that's a silver haired angel had fallen to earth, pulled all the unstoppable desire of every living creature inside and trap them with sweet words.

Sweet words are fascinating, as well as a bad taste when you remember that you're just one of many devotees. No more than a grain of sand in the desert. Until when he and others realise as grains of sand, they are not taken to heaven, but the plain hell that he manifests; forever looming in their lives like a bright, blood red moon illuminating the dark night.

"S-so how did you get back anyway?" Marik gulped. Instantly he felt his throat was dry and tongue bitter, wondering if that subject was still too tender and that he may have hit a nerve.

"Well after all that happened with Pharaoh I must say I had gotten weak, but somehow my soul still lingered here. I think it had something to do with the Millennium Items. As long as they exist I do. I managed to visit Ryou again, didn't seem all too pleased to see me, but who can blame him? He is well now though in Japan. Anyway, he was with his father on a trip around Egyptian ruins and one wall held the answer. One old man was lost in the change, but I won't get into that…" Bakura finish his sentence.

_That makes sense_, he thought. He was Bakura. An ancient spirit from the village in Egypt known as Kul Elna. This thief had managed to live for five thousand years, trapped in the Millennium Ring. But every now and then he liked to… come out and play. If you had any questions, you might want to think before asking. He could easily send anyone who angers him to the Shadow Realm, a place he was sure, no mortal wants to visit or he'd do much worse. He is the darkness. It wouldn't be strange if he found a way to stay, he always succeeded somehow. He did feel sorry for that old man, though the man had helped in one way. Now Bakura had his own body. However all this information was overwhelming, he guessed his own curiosity hurt the fibres of his mind, giving him major headaches; his brain was bouncing alongside his skull.

Bakura beheld Marik's face as if he was as valuable as a small animal that was injured. Instantly he pulled his mouth into a smirk, his two dark brown eyes flashed with interest.

"You never change," Bakura said with a soft tone. Too soft, for a sentence that came from a thief. Marik didn't answer. Pieces of his mind were still scattered, buzzing from what was filling his ears.

"You are still so curious, and still handsome. So beautiful for it to be a sin," Bakura starts again. Marik was no longer able to hear the praise and its flattery. No matter how sweet the words dripped from his lips, he was no longer concerned about the low crisp sound. He was still trying to absorb information.

"Both the five thousand years ago and now."

Suddenly Marik raised his eyebrows and rotated his neck to observe at Bakura. This did grab his attention, shock and confusion filled Marik's face.

"Did you hear? You're the one who most beautiful in the universe. Five thousand years ago and today. Only you are magnificent," Bakura stared at him intently. A thin smirk still tugging at his face. Marik was not able to arrange the words. His tongue was tied, or his vocal cords were frozen. He stared unblinking at Bakura over his shoulder. A creeping red hue painted the face of Marik, the expression of surprise still hadn't seeped away.

"What the hell are you talking about Bakura? You trying to say that I also have lived for five thousand years like you? Nonsense!" The words shook and scatted out of his mouth as he tried to regain his composure.

"Because you've given me such a sweet expression of confusion that brings me such entertainment, let me tell you one good thing," Bakura mischievous smile. Marik was about to open his mouth and complain, when Bakura spoke again.

"The King of Thieves was famous all over Egypt five millennia ago, he had once, only once, allowed another to steal from him. Someone who is very handsome and a beautiful stature who lived within the walls of the palace, had stolen his heart. And despite five millennia having passed, I let him steal my heart again," Bakura ended with a small laugh.

Marik blinked. _What?_

"Stupid," Bakura flicked Marik's forehead with his forefinger as if he read his mind. "The ordinary man does not live for five thousand years. Not like me, who has turned into a Spirit of the Ring. But a human is reincarnated. Living a new life leaving the others again, to cover the story of his life with a different ending."

There was a mocking tone of every word that Bakura brought from his lips, but Marik did not heed. Grey cells in the cavities of his brain were currently busy processing the row of words, harassing his eardrums.

"You mean..." Marik did not dare to continue his sentence.

"Ah, I still remember it very well," Bakura suddenly chattering more cheerfully. "It was the first day of new year, when I came to your room because of the demands of work, in an instant I knew…"

Marik raised a brow. Waiting for Bakura to finish only having himself let out a surprised mewl as Bakura wrapped both arms around his waist, dragging him closer, his head was aligned with his chest. Marik gasped as he heard the booming bass line nestled beneath alabaster skin. His heartbeat. It was a reminder of the pain Bakura went to, obtaining his own body. And he had done it all for Marik apparently. That thought instantly calmed the blonde. He felt himself smile properly in ages. He began to understand how Bakura was feeling, that he was his lover in a period of time five thousand years ago.

"I knew that you wanted me," Bakura continued and grinned.

Marik coughed, "Huh?"

"You think I don't know?" Bakura chuckled. "The way you look at me, is just like the way he looked at me. It screamed and begged to be taken to bed."

His eyes were still wide open. Marik felt his cheeks heat up and was silent for a moment before he sat up letting his voice be heard once more, "Do not blame me, if you got caught up in the blink of an eye charm."

He blinked at this and soon after Bakura's laughter blared all over the room. A smile polished Marik's lips, enjoying the melody of laughter this time from the thief who had ensnared his heart. Sudden awareness of logic hit Marik, "Wait. If that is so, why did you agree when I said we weren't in a relationship when we were working together?" The sentence choked up a bit at the end. A pain from some time ago felt like it was coming back to haunt him.

Bakura stop laughing, but the grin on his face was as white as cream. He shrugged, "We do not have a relationship. We have a bond. Relationships can be completed, but the bond we had to wade through five thousand years. We'll never be apart," he said casually. "Five millenniums we're distant, but again I chose your heart. Despite the differences between now and the past. You are still the same as it used to be, but not at all to bore me, but to look at you and enjoy the charm of beauty." Bakura grinned with satisfaction.

Fragments of the originally swirling thoughts shifted around Marik's head neatly. All the logic had returned to him, it shocked him how Bakura was almost feeling too full of honesty.

"You know you said like some washed up poet…" Marik uttered, making Bakura chuckle.

"Well, I can explain my words to you Marik; but I can't comprehend it for you."

Marik blinked, and the next moment there was loud laugh. Bakura was holding his stomach; clearly Marik's blank expression tickled the sense of humour of the Pharaoh's top tomb raider. Marik stared at Bakura's face intently. He clenched his eyelids together as he joined in with the laughing. Bakura smiled, enjoying the rare sight where his angel had a cheerful laugh and was using it heartily.

Bakura suddenly and grabbed Marik's arm, turning his body round quickly Marik gasped in shock when his mouth was locked in the moment perfectly by the thief. The whitette's lips met his for a few minutes, and then slid away. He felt Bakura settle his nose into his platinum hair. He smiled as he heard Bakura's heart speed up beneath his cheek.

"I love you, Marik." Bakura whispered. The way he said it proved that it was completely genuine, yet he was able to say it so casually that it made it that more special. "Oh by the way before I forget Marik…" Bakura whispered to him.

"Mmm…?"

"Happy birthday." Marik's eyes flickered, remembering the date once more. Smiling brightly he hugged his Bakura tighter with no intensions of letting him go. Not that Bakura would mind anyway.

At the very least, for now the world among them was theirs alone, because they belonged to each other.

Hello! CookieRansacked here! That was my first ever story on here so hope you liked it! :3


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